


The Equation

by Island_of_Reil



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Coronation Ceremony 2016, Fantastic History, Gen, Implied/Referenced Magical Violence, Magical Education, Pre-Canon, Teenage Cala, Teenage Dazhis, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehalis Athmaza teaches his class of 13- and 14-year-old future mazei about Stantha’s Equation and how it applies to Hanevis Athmaza. Among his pupils are two very bright young boys named Dazhis and Cala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Equation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chocolatepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/gifts).



> Hi, Chocolatepot! I hope you enjoy this fic.

As the inevitable titters grew louder, Sehalis sighed inwardly. Just one more month, he reminded himself, and his tenure as Adremaza would begin. More authority, a larger office, opportunities for speechmaking, regular meetings with the Archprelate and with the Witness for the Athmaz’are … and no more classroom duties.

Oh, of a certain, he would continue to tutor the most promising of the youths who sat before him. But never again would he have to stand before a room full of 13- and 14-year-old boys whose mazeise abilities did not make them differ one bit from non-mazeise 13- and 14-year-old boys in terms of propriety or respect for their elders.

“No, Romet. There is not a maz that will enable thee to turn urine into metheglin. Nor do we believe thou asked’st that question in as much innocence as purportest. We regret to inform thee that, at thy current level of mazeise capabilities, neither is there a maz that will make ‘I will not ask impertinent questions in class’ appear in writing in thy notebook five hundred times before eight o’clock tomorrow morning, when wilt turn in thy notebook in to us so annotated.”

“But, Osmaza—”

Sehalis, ears flat to his skull, stared Romet down until the boy seemed to shrink into his wooden chair, his own ears drooping. A wave of snickers began to make its way across the room. Sehalis pivoted to wash his glare over the rest of his pupils until they too went meekly quiet.

“Now,” he said. “Yesterday we referred in passing to Stantha the Theoretician. Who among you knows the name of Stantha’s most famous student?”

Dazhis Athmaza’s neatly manicured hand went up. When Sehalis nodded to him, he said, “Hanevis Athmaza was Stantha’s most famous student, Osmaza.”

Sehalis never permitted himself even the shadow of a smile while teaching a class, but now he let his tone brighten faintly. “That is correct, Dazhis. And who here can tell us about Stantha’s Equation?”

This time it was Cala Athmaza’s shabbily sleeved arm that rose into the air. With a shade less enthusiasm, Sehalis said, “Cala?”

“Stantha’s Equation, Osmaza, calculates how much mazeise energy a maza may expend before he suffers injury or death. Its variables are the maza’s age and constitution, the prevailing physical and atmospheric conditions, the presence and strength of any ambient or countervailing energies, and, in certain cases, the sources of such energies.”

Sehalis gave him a curt nod of approval. Like Dazhis, Cala was beginning to evince dachenmazeise abilities. Unlike Dazhis, he had a lamentably casual attitude toward nearly everything other than magic. “Dost thou know the equation in full, Cala?”

“Yes, Osmaza.”

“Then come up to the chalkboard and write it out for the class.”

Cala rose and began to slouch his way forward. “Straighten thy spine and shoulders, art not a beast of burden,” Sehalis snapped, and Cala unfolded himself a little. His posture still left much to be desired, but as he was not willfully disobeying, it was not an infraction Sehalis cared to waste further classroom time addressing. The boy picked up a stick of chalk and began to write out the notation for the theorem. Once, he had to rise up on his toes to add a superscripted digit to the end of a line; after another year’s growth, Sehalis thought, that would be unnecessary for him.

“Very good,” Sehalis said once Cala had finished. “Now, canst describe the final battle of Hanevis Athmaza in terms of this equation?” Cala, who apparently had not expected to be so tasked, blinked twice behind his thick spectacles. Sehalis added, “As the precise values of all the variables involved are not known, thou mayest confine thy description to generalities.”

Cala gathered his wits and said, “Hanevis was a nohecharis, so he was in good health and physical condition when he challenged Orava the Usurper. But he was also rising fifty years old, and Orava was in his thirties.”

“Go on,” Sehalis said.

“The duel took place in the Untheileian,” Cala said, “which is all hard surfaces and of course enclosed. Meaning that ambient mazeise energies would have remained in the air, rather than being absorbed or dispelled. Hanevis and Orava cast maz after maz for an hour, so the lingering energies would have made each maz less predictable in its result than the one before. That would have made the duel more dangerous for both participants, and also for the emperor, his soldier-nohecharis, and anyone else in attendance who was unable to flee.”

Sehalis looked expectantly at Cala, and the boy continued: “Most importantly, Orava was powerful beyond even the level of dachenmaza. Though he’d entered the Athmaz’are, he craved worldly rewards. During his mazeise training he broke into the Forbidden Library of the Mazan’theileian, where he discovered, read, and copied parts of Chathura the Necromancer’s suppressed treatise. Then he lied to his teachers that he had lately realized his true calling was that of a prelate of Ulis, and he wished to train as such instead of as a maza.”

“And what were his powers that are relevant to this discussion?” Sehalis said with a trace of impatience.

“Once he had learned the ritual of communing with the dead, he employed Chathura’s instructions to harness powers not meant to be wielded by mortals, not even dachenmazei.” Cala paused. “It was an evil thing to do, against all the laws of the gods.”

“Indeed,” Sehalis said, letting his tone reflect his disgust. “And we are sure thou wouldst already know that Orava slit a servant’s throat in the Untheileian before he struck at Beltanthiar, that he could draw on those illicit powers through the man’s corpse.”

“Yes, Osmaza.”

“So, Cala, what did all this mean for Hanevis?”

“It meant, Osmaza, that though he had not expected to survive the duel to begin with, he did not realize quite how deadly it would be until it had begun and he realized the true source of Orava’s powers. Orava inflicted serious injuries upon him, but the clerics of Csaivo might have healed him of those. Hanevis died because he had to draw upon all his mazeise energy to protect his Zhas for a full hour — Orava had also cast a maz to hinder the Adremaza on his way to the Untheileian. Hanevis’s will was so strong that he remained standing and fighting until the Adremaza finally arrived, but well before that his bodily organs had begun to disintegrate within him, and no one could have healed him from that.”

Many eyes in the room went wide. The rest of the boys had apparently heard this part of the tale before. Not one boy from either group made a sound.

“Thou hast acquitted thyself very well, Cala,” Sehalis finally said. “Mayest take thy seat again.”

Cala’s ears twitched. “Thank you, Osmaza.”

This time he held his head up a fair bit higher than he had before. He was a good lad all in all, Sehalis thought, as well as both very talented and very bright. It was unlikely that another nohecharis would need to be appointed for many years to come; Sehalis nonetheless intended to train Cala, Dazhis, and a few other boys for that role when they reached full maturity. Said maturity, he reflected, might help mitigate Cala’s dreadful lack of dignity. However, a few pointed words to Cala about taking his example from Dazhis would not be amiss, whether now or in future.

Raising his head to address the entire class again, Sehalis declared in the plural: “We honor the example of Hanevis Athmaza not only for his skill, but for his dedication to his emperor unto the realm of Ulis.” He paused for effect. “Those of you who demonstrate dachenmazeise aptitude will be trained to follow in his footsteps once you have attained your majority. You will not be bound to do so, of course. To be named nohecharis, students must not only prove that they have the skill and the temperament, but must convince the Athmaz’are that they are willing to die for their Zhas — or follow him into the grave.”

After another beat of utter silence, he reverted to the singular formal: “We do not know if any of you will, ultimately, meet those standards or choose to live up to them. That will depend on each of you.”

Two sets of shoulders straightened at his words, one beneath a well-kempt robe, one beneath a shabby one. Sehalis disregarded the soft bloom of warmth in his breast, lest it lead him into a smile — or mawkish, premature nostalgia for such rare moments in the classroom — and said briskly, again in the plural, “And now, we will turn our attentions to the theorems of Canoret Athmaza, another disciple of Stantha’s. Open your theory textbooks to section two, page forty-seven.”


End file.
